


Sleeping with The Moon and The Stars

by margesimpson



Series: indulgence [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Confessions, Dreams, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Not Canon Compliant, Sexual Content, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 10:25:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18658555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/margesimpson/pseuds/margesimpson
Summary: The closer the two become, the deeper Sansa is in the water.





	Sleeping with The Moon and The Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Current mood is Donald Glover screaming,
> 
> NOTES AGAIN SO MAYBE READ BEFORE YOU WANNA GIVE ME CRITIQUE those are the rules!
> 
> 1) Season 8 Episode 3 is suggesting Sanrion POTENTIAL and there are three more episodes to go and it made me so anxious!!! I spent like 2 hours writing this because if GoT won't give me anymore sanrion action I'll still have this! more mindless, no-conflict really sanrion fluff babies!!!  
> 2) I'm not a GoT super-fan so I may get a lot of details wrong. I watched the series through once and am foggy on the plot. I'm very, very sorry if the characters come across as OOC.  
> 3) This is set in a universe where Jon is king, and the Stark girls are still his sisters, most of the events in the actual show happened, except my babies get a happy ending :P  
> 4) This entire thing is un-beta'd, so if you spot any mistakes please point them out so I can fix it in post! It will be much less embarrassing for me that way!  
> 5) I'm a terrible writer and I think my pacing is lacking - so I'm sorry if you get any whiplash from one scene to the next. (Though tbh I feel like that is the GoT experience). Please give me feedback on how to improve that!  
> 6) Shae is gonna be discussed in this so watch out for that yo! IDC what you think of her because Sanrion is the only thing on my mind!!

 

Sansa Lannister-Stark had been known as the sister of the King and Lady of Winterfell. She was no longer the tactless, naive little girl that could be easily manipulated by reckless men - as Tyrion had put it; all who had crossed her are dead now. For these reasons, and possibly more, many in Westeros had sought whatever means to be in her favor. 

 

This is why, after news had spread far and wide of the tragic loss of her first child, Lady Stark had received many letters from all of Westeros that contained well-meaning condolences and, oddly, advice. 

 

There had been conflicting reports of which positions when coupling would produce great results - there were even directions of the proper way to lay in bed after the coupling so as to assure the seed would speedily reach the womb. They told her what food to eat and which animal furs to avoid. Some even claimed that the stuffing within the mattress was a vital factor. 

 

Sansa and Tyrion had read some together by the fire, and laughed themselves to tears. Tyrion, the stubborn skeptic, found all of this to be nonsense, and Sansa had no idea how their coupling had anything to do with the outcome of the actual pregnancy.

 

“Could you imagine, my dear lady,” Tyrion had begun after his third drink of wine, “we walk into a fine establishment. A drunk, burly - but wise-” Tyrion wagged his finger at this, “man begun to make a scene. He gets up on the table and yells at the poor girl serving him ‘ _ how _ do you not know who I am!? I practically birthed the heir of Winterfell myself!’ And then, of course, everyone applauds, because that is what he expects when he announced it in the first place.” 

 

The way that Sansa laughs is clear that her throat was dry. Tyrion refills her cup and she smiles in turn. “We could only go on our knees and begin to worship him for all he’s done for us.” Sansa added before taking a sip. Tyrion chuckled into his cup. “Why, of course! Where would we be without him.”

 

Sansa had long stopped measuring her worth by her ability to produce children. Her position was secured by her own hand in the politics of Westeros  - she was no longer a pawn to be compromised, but a player taking the lead. She could not recall if her mother, or even Cersei, had received so much attention to gain their liking. No one had spoken to Tyrion through her - they spoke to her directly, because of her influence and power. (She had  _ power _ .) It was far from a Valyrian sword or an army, but it’s a start. 

 

“What are you doing still reading that nonsense?” Tyrion had said while gathering their cups and empty wine bottles on a plate. Sansa smirks as she looks up from the letters. “I don’t know, some of these positions look... interesting…”

 

Tyrion faux-gasped. “Lady Sansa!”

 

Sansa threw her head back as she laughed. “You sound just like a Septa.”

 

Soon, the two lazily began to make love in their drunken haze. Sansa had been on her hands and knees with Tyrion behind her. Sansa hadn't particularly liked not seeing Tyrion’s face, but she admits she more than liked how she could lean into him and focus on the pleasure she would receive and  _ receive _ \- and never be taken.

 

Tyrion was also not entirely fond of not seeing his wife's gorgeous front, but he found himself throb at the way her back moved. Or how tight she was becoming surrounding him. It was that Sansa was his and Tyrion was hers - that they could belong to each other with little tearing them apart. They didn’t need to hide their love from the world for the sake of their lives - they could writhe and moan and fuck each other senseless for everyone to hear and it couldn’t be taken away. 

 

The alcohol had perhaps brought them much quicker to their exclaiming, gasping climax than they typically do. 

 

“You must stay with me forever,” Sansa says breathlessly. “Never leave me. I’ll take you everywhere with me - we’ll laugh and dance and sing all the time.” Tyrion had fetched a wet rag and begun to clean them both in the meantime. “So, I shall be your Court Dwarf then?” Tyrion teased with a chuckle. 

 

“Yes. The kind that fucks a Lady.” Sansa wrapped her arms around Tyrion’s shoulders. “Now that would have been a lovely exchange of vows at our wedding. ” Tyrion lowers his head to kiss his wife as she laughs once more before they fall asleep in each other’s arms on the rug. The crackling of the fire is all they could hear in the dark.

 

They hadn’t meant to frighten the poor maidservant who had found her Lord and Lady naked and tangled on the floor with a spilled cup of wine next to their heads the following morning.

 

…

 

Contrary to all the rumors of Lady Stark being with child, she had begun her moonblood a week within the incident. She was currently taking a long, warm bath with her husband - at her request.

 

Sansa had admitted to herself, as her husband washed her back, that her marriage to Tyrion existed more so for pleasure than practical use. 

 

When she first reunited with Tyrion, she did not immediately beg for his hand. She had a war to resolve, a land to rule and her own personal demons to tackle. She needed time to grieve and contemplate what had happened to her, and what she considered love to be. In that time, she and Tyrion grew closer as friends than they ever could have had in King’s Landing. Not only was the environment less, er, chaotic, but Sansa felt more complete as a person. 

 

So, when she finally began considering her marital status, she turned to Tyrion. It was on her twenty-fifth nameday. He had traveled all the way from Casterly Rock to give her his gift, and she had proposed to him in private after the festivities.

 

Her practical reasoning was that he was the last Lannister that owned an abundance of land and he was a capable, tactical political figurehead - but of course, personally, it was because he was a good friend she could spend a great deal of time with. Somehow, she couldn’t have predicted herself falling madly in love with him. In hindsight, this was a grievous error in judgement of Tyrion’s charm.

 

“You must grow your beard back,” she said absentmindedly as she cupped his cheeks. “I don’t know why you shaved it off in the first place.” 

 

“It was difficult to maintain.” Tyrion leaned forward to press kisses against Sansa’s neck, and Sansa’s hands rested themselves on Tyrion’s back. Sansa missed the feeling of his beard on her skin as he does this, but she doesn't confess this for whatever reason. 

 

“You'll need one to cope with the cold.”

 

“I feel perfectly warm right now.”

 

Sansa is content with how her marriage has developed. 

 

… 

 

There's one letter Sansa doesn't share with Tyrion.

 

It was from an elderly matriarch of a large family within the village. She must have struggled to get this to Sansa. And Sansa had appreciated it, because what was contained in this letter was much too embarrassing to be brought up in daily consultation with the villagers. 

 

The woman had advised that it was much too early in the marriage to have a baby. That Sansa and Tyrion must deepen their bond and “strengthen their nest” before bringing a child into the world. They must be happy to be with or without child. 

 

Sansa held onto the letter longer than the others before tossing it into the fire. 

 

… 

 

Sansa looks on fondly at her sister giving the vigorous teenagers of Winterfell a lesson in sword fighting. Every day she's more and more grateful for Arya’s decision to stay behind in Winterfell instead of joining Jon in King’s Landing. 

 

“It’s kind of beautiful, isn't it?” Arya approaches Sansa after ordering the boys to help carry the logs. “Watching your students cry before even getting a hit in a fight?” Sansa guesses with a smirk and Arya scoffs. 

 

“No. I’m a prolific swordsman and you're a strong, married woman. Just like we've always wanted.”

 

“I suppose that's true.” Sansa can see Tyrion and Bronn from across the yard. 

 

“So…” Arya leaned against the railing, not looking at her sister. She's still not exactly comfortable with her sister’s gooey love affair stinking up all of Winterfell. At least he wasn't Joffrey, and somewhat funny, she conceded. “Consultation was shorter today?”  

 

“Yes,” Sansa turned her gaze to Arya, “it's become much more peaceful in Winterfell lately. No one seems to have any issues to bring forth. We just discussed general updates.”

 

Arya nodded in acknowledgment. It had been a long time since she ever thought of Winterfell as being at peace, then again she was also a child that was ignorant of her environment back then. Still, she felt like something must be on the horizon. The world doesn't stand still. 

 

“So, how long are you going to have them carry the logs?”

 

“Until they've carried it all to the one corner of the yard and then I'll tell them to carry it all back to the original spot.” Arya looks back at Sansa and arches a brow at her sister's growing smile. “What?”

 

“You're still the same,” Sansa had said. 

 

The bell had been rung. A man announces that there was a group of three approaching. Sansa allowed the gates to be opened. 

 

It was Bran, escorted by Brienne and Podrick. 

 

Sansa, Tyrion and Arya hurriedly approached to greet them.

 

Sansa leaned down to hug her brother, Arya stood behind her, watching curiously. Bran had said his quest (whatever it was, Arya barely pays attention when her brother goes on and on about his duty as the Three Eyed Raven) would take him at least a year, and yet here he was. They must have turned around early on in their journey. 

 

Podrick had knelt down to hug Tyrion close with much exclamation, and Tyrion patted his back awkwardly as he scowled back at Bronn chuckling at the sight. 

 

Sansa stood back to give her brother a smile, but he looked back at her incredulously. 

 

“What are you doing here?” Arya asked no one in particular. 

 

“Lord Bran told us that Lady Sansa and Lord Tyrion would be absent from their position and that he had to return to fill it temporarily.” Brienne had answered. She may have had a cool exterior, but Arya could see even she was confused by the situation. 

 

“What?” Sansa instinctively reached to hold Tyrion’s shoulder. Tyrion looked between his wife and brother-in-law and then glanced at the worried crowd of people that surrounded them. 

 

“Perhaps we should take this conversation to the dining hall, my lady?”

 

Sansa, not knowing what to think, trusted Tyrion’s assessment. 

 

… 

 

“I apologize, Sansa. I did not expect to find either of you here. I was under the impression that your men would be waiting for me. This hasn't quite happened before…”

 

“And where would we be?”

 

Bran was still for a moment. He seemed to look at Tyrion with some embarrassment, though Tyrion thinks he must be projecting. 

 

“When we crossed by a lake, I had a vision that you were giving birth, with Tyrion by your side. He held a healthy, baby girl.”

 

Sansa doesn't meet Tyrion’s eyes when he looks up at her. 

 

“I was so certain that you were migrating this moonturn…it's the only way the timeline could make sense… ”

 

“Where were we?” Sansa took Tyrion’s hand. 

 

Brienne shifted on her feet and Podrick broke his gaze at Tyrion. Bran took a drink of water before answering. 

 

“Pentos.”

 

…

 

“Why?”

 

“You must be more specific.”

 

Arya smirks. She crosses her arms across her chest. The godswood always made her a little uncomfortable, even if she was quite victorious here once. 

 

“Why renounce your quest and come all this way to be Lord - a position you swore you'd never fill?”

 

Bran is quiet. 

 

“Come on. Isn't there at least a  _ small _ part of you that's biased? Even just a tiny little piece of the Three Eyed Raven that wants to see to it that his sister is happy in spite of his duties?”

 

“I had a vision. My actions following that vision has ensured that it comes true. That is all.”

 

Bran doesn't flinch when Arya’s fist gave a gentle bump against his shoulder. 

 

… 

 

Tyrion awoke to find his wife sitting upright by the windowsill. He felt sweat on his face. 

 

“Sansa…” he had left the bed and was approaching her. His hand gently rubbed her lower back. It was times like these where he couldn't read her thoughts, and it made him panic. 

 

“We don't have to leave tomorrow,” he whispered, “or the day after tomorrow. Or the day after that. Bran himself doesn't know when we should leave, but it doesn't have to be so soon.”

 

“It’s not that.”

 

Sansa turned and looked into Tyrion’s eyes. Her expression was wistful. Her hands instinctively held his. 

 

“I'm not worried about leaving. Arya will keep good care of Winterfell. And Bran will be...well, Bran.”

 

“So? Why are you not asleep?”

 

“I was, but…” Sansa licked her lips. She thought for a moment before looking back at Tyrion. The way her thumbs circled the back of his hands put him at ease. 

 

“I had this dream. The snow was melting from the branches. The water gathered by my feet. Soon, it was as if I was standing in a shallow lake. I was knee-deep in it. I was freezing, and so scared. I didn't know where I was. But I could hear your voice, from a distance. You were on a ship. It was so strange, Tyrion. I could see it. This ship, afloat on a thin lake. I felt… ”

 

She looked at their hands. 

 

“I felt so happy. I woke up with my heart pounding from the excitement. For a moment, I thought it was all real.”

 

Tyrion didn't know what to say in that moment, but instead he lead her back to bed. She willfully obliged, and curled herself against him. She fell asleep more easily than he had expected. 

 

… 

 

Brienne, as always, offered herself as a guard on the journey. Podrick also offered assistance and his bow wasn't as graceful as Brienne, who had taken a knee before her Lord and Lady. 

 

Sansa and Tyrion looked to each other fondly. There was no possible way they could refuse them. 

 

When Sansa had asked Arya if she had considered joining them on their journey, she scoffed. There was no way she was going to follow her sister around, listen to her prattle talk with locals, and protect her from petty thieves just to wait for her to be impregnated. She'd rather eat yellow snow, she said. Sansa hugged her regardless when they said their goodbyes. 

 

Bronn had voiced the same decision, even though Tyrion hadn't asked him to join. 

 

As they departed from Winterfell, Arya, Bronn and Bran watched from the gates. Arya swore she saw Bronn hold back tears. 

 

“This is right,” Bran whispered. Arya glanced at him. “Now it's all in balance.”

 

…

 

Tyrion had been worried that the boat would in some way upset Sansa. He didn't know why, but he was worried. She seemed just fine, though, and indulged herself in what seemed to becoming a vacation for them. 

 

Every night it was the same song and dance. Sansa would prod at Brienne till she caved and left her post to join them for dinner. Podrick would continuously walk by their room to take a peek at the commotion through the ajar door until Tyrion eventually asks him to sit down. 

 

They would drink and laugh and eat. Sansa would only have two glasses of wine and she would sit closer and closer to Tyrion as the night went on until her arm is wrapped around his shoulders. It is usually at this point that Brienne and Podrick excuse themselves, Sansa feels as if she's been rude and asks them to stay, but they assure her that they had a lovely time and leave without protest. Although, Tyrion could hear Podrick’s voice whine in the hallway before hearing a light slap to the back of his head. 

 

“Pretend you're a priest for a moment,” Sansa says as Tyrion gets under the blanket next to her. “I didn't know you liked to roleplay,” Tyrion teases. 

 

“What? No,” Sansa smiles, then exhales through her nose as a little laugh, “I wish to confess.”

 

“Oh. Alright, go ahead.”

 

They turned on their sides to face each other fully. Sansa’s intense stare breaks under Tyrion’s gaze and she begins to giggle. He begins to laugh, too, as she buries her face in a pillow. 

 

“No, no, it's too embarrassing. Forget I said anything.”

 

“Oh, come on, nothing is too embarrassing to tell me,” he nudges her shoulder so she looks at him again. “I am your priest, after all.”

 

Sansa snorts at this, and then clears her throat as if to gather her composure. Tyrion wonders when Sansa had become so…unapologetically human with him, and he's grateful for a moment before she speaks. 

 

“There was a time where I had complicated feelings over my…sexual experience. I thought I was no longer a virgin, and that that somehow would ruin any future encounters. It's silly, I know that now. But it's still difficult forgetting everything you're told as a child. It's internal , I think.”

 

Tyrion moves closer to rest his hand on her cheek. She holds it there and he could feel her face was warm. She closes her eyes for a moment before continuing. 

 

“But when we laid together, the first time, I felt like a virgin. It was the first time I really made love with someone. I didn't ever tell you that, I think.”

 

Their fingers begin to lace together. Tyrion feels his heart swell. 

 

“I just wanted to say I'm happy it was with you.”

 

“Thank you for telling me,” he says, his voice low, “I'm glad I could make you happy.”

 

They're still for a moment, then Sansa looks at his hand on her cheek with a grin. 

 

“What I actually wanted to confess, though,” Tyrion’s interest is peaked, “is that I'm becoming slightly ashamed that I'm not… as ashamed as I should be over what we're meant to do on our journey. Am I making any sense to you?”

 

“No, but go on.”

 

“I guess what I'm trying to say is that… I'm upset that you haven't once...tried to…” her voice becomes quiet “...  _ seduce _ me since we got on this boat. We're not fulfilling our destiny, as it were.”

 

“I apologize,” Tyrion leans forward to kiss her, “I'll see to it this is fixed immediately.”

 

Sansa laughs as Tyrion climbs on top of her, entirely aroused by his wife's sudden bashful yet blunt approach to their prophesied coupling. Tyrion hadn't thought before about how this would have possibly made Sansa too embarrassed to take the lead, as she usually did, and he could kick himself for not being more considerate. The gods, whoever they were,  had told him to make love to his wife, and it was…encouraging, to say the least. 

 

They kiss each other vehemently for a long time before Sansa gently pushes Tyrion away. He panics, but then sees her chuckling. 

 

“Do you remember the first time we kissed? It was horrible!”

 

“Yes, I do. You bit me.”

 

“I did! I did!”

 

Tyrion remembers how Sansa had detailed in her letter to him that she had never laughed so much in her life before she was truly married to him. Looking at her laughing now, his entire body feels warm and peaceful. 

 

He didn't need to worry at all about her being happy with him. 

 

… 

 

When Sansa awoke, she found Tyrion was still inside of her. It was a beautiful feeling. 

 

… 

 

Brienne had confronted Tyrion in a hallway. Tyrion briefly mused that she was there to kill him, and this whole thing had been a ruse. But Brienne didn't unsheath her sword or lift him into the air (which she could do, very easily), but instead spoke rather softly. 

 

“My Lord-”

 

“Tyrion, please.”

 

“Tyrion. I wanted to thank you for keeping my Lady happy. When I first met her, she was a frightened and cold woman. Although I don't believe you are the sole reason for her newfound optimism, I thank you for contributing to it.”

 

Tyrion furrows his brow. 

 

“I appreciate the sentiment, Ser Brienne, but I shouldn't be thanked for pleasing my wife. I'm her husband - it is the least I can do. It would be like thanking an able-bodied man for walking. It's my privilege, if anything.”

 

Brienne is quiet. It is clear this is not what she expected. Her arms unfold from behind her back and she clears her throat. 

 

“I suppose that's true.”

 

“Grand. Join me for a drink?”

 

Brienne nods, and it's the first time Tyrion sees her smile. 

 

… 

 

Podrick and Sansa had been slicing and tasting fruits in the kitchen. Podrick had turned out to be quite a gossip. Sansa wondered if he had learned this from Tyrion or Varys. 

 

“He mentioned you once during our travels,” he had said in between chewing. 

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yes. And he wasn't lying, either, you  _ do  _ have a long neck!”

 

Sansa repressed her laughter by taking a bite from an apple as she watched the realization of Podrick’s remark dawn on his face. 

 

She felt a little bit terrible for having him beg for her forgiveness, but it amused her terribly. 

 

“You are a sadist,” Tyrion muttered in her ear before pressing a kiss to the top of her head that night in bed. 

 

… 

 

At night, Podrick and Brienne play cards to stay awake. They weren't sitting in complete silence, however. 

 

“They say each others names so often they lose all meaning,” Podrick muttered. He exclaimed when Brienne slapped his hand. 

 

“Podrick! It is our duty to be respectful of our Lord and Lady, so grant them at least some sense of privacy so they may keep their dignity. I won't have you commenting on their… _ personal matters _ like that.”

 

“Alright,” Podrick conceded, rubbing the sore spot on the back of his arm. “But must we be so close by?”

 

“Of course. This may be one of King Jon’s ships but we can never be sure who is on board. We must be nearby in case anything happens.”

 

Podrick concedes to that and returns his attention to their card game. Brienne feels chuffed that he may have learned something from her, but he soon remarks

 

“Is that  _ spanking _ I hear-?”

 

“Podrick!”

 

… 

 

They were so close to Pentos when Sansa had been struck with a fever. 

 

Tyrion refused to leave her side, even if she expressed her worries that he would catch her fever. He had changed her towels and bedding more often than the servants on board. He had wiped her forehead, held her hair back and sung to her for her to fall asleep. For a brief moment, Sansa cannot fathom how she deserved such a husband. 

 

He sat by her bedside and held onto her hand. Sansa wished she could pry open his head and see all the thoughts brewing in his mind. Although, asking him directly would suffice, she figured. 

 

“You look so pensive,” she said, her voice hoarse. She clears it with a glass of water before continuing. “Tell me what you're thinking, my husband.”

 

“I'm worried that what I am thinking will make you hate me, my wife.”

 

Sansa could tell Tyrion was serious when he said this, what with him avoiding eye contact, but she didn't know why. 

 

“Tyrion, with everything I've been through, it would take a lot to ever make me hate you.”

 

Tyrion smiles weakly at this. Sansa feels a slight wince in her heart. 

 

“Please, Tyrion, tell me.”

 

He looks her in the eye at this, and she could see by the way his shoulders sag that he has caved in. 

 

“It's just that… traveling to Pentos has brought back memories.”

 

Sansa squeezes his hand to urge him on. He sighs. 

 

“In King’s Landing, I was having an affair. And I continued to do so after we had been betrothed to each other.”

 

“To whom?” Sansa asked with no anger in her voice. She seemed quite… curious, actually. She had always been curious of his past romantic endeavours, Tyrion supposed. 

 

“It was with Shae.”

 

Tyrion closed his eyes at this. He had waited for Sansa to jerk her hand away and yell at him in disgust. To order him to leave her or storm off herself, as he had remembered Shae doing so many times (and rightfully so). 

 

“That makes sense,” she has said instead, and Tyrion stared at her incredulously. 

 

“What?”

 

“Back then I didn't expect for you to stay faithful to me. You refused to sleep with me, for one. Now I know, of course, you knew I wasn't ready for it. I was just a child, and we hardly knew each other, and I thank you for that. Looking back at it now, I guess I've always felt there was something between you two. I thought perhaps she was wary of you because she was protective of me, but now…”

 

“She was protective of you. Fiercely. Half of our arguments were about how to keep you safe in King’s Landing.”

 

Sansa smiles fondly at that, and Tyrion feels his chest warm. 

 

“But you aren't… Angry? That I was with - or continued to be with - another woman after I vowed to be with you?”

 

Sansa chuckles at this. 

 

“No, Tyrion! I didn't love you back then - I barely considered you a friend. We were just lost, well-meaning strangers forced together. What do I care that you loved someone else during that time? Our vows meant practically nothing to me then. I can't waste my time being angry over something that had already passed, either.”

 

Tyrion could only look on in awe as his wife shows him her maturity and then coughed into her wrist. He refilled her glass and she nodded in thanks. 

 

“Your compassion never ceases to run out, does it?”

 

Tyrion smiles when she shakes her head knowingly. After a moment, Sansa asks

 

“What happened to you and Shae?”

 

Tyrion is still. It takes him a while before he confesses the whole story to Sansa. 

 

She listens thoughtfully as he tells her of how they fell in love, of how they wanted to go to Pentos, of how Tyrion wanted to keep their relationship secret for her safety, how frustrated she became of this, of their eventual fallout, of her betrayal, of him finding her in his father's bed - and finally, with much hesitation and clear remorse, of how he killed her. 

 

Sansa is quiet after he says all of this, and he looks away in shame. Now she must hate him, he thinks. He can definitely feel his own self-hatred boiling inside. But, again, Sansa surprises him. 

 

“I'm so sorry, Tyrion,” she said quietly. 

 

He felt his eyes become uncontrollably teary. 

 

“It must have been… It all sounds so terrible. I understand now why you didn't want to tell me at first, but I'm grateful that you did.”

 

Tyrion was about to burst into a sob if it weren't for Sansa’s hand caressing his back. He turns to look back at his wife's forgiving, kind, and beautiful face. 

 

“How do you love after that?” 

 

“How did you?” Tyrion asks in turn. 

 

Their exchange of knowing looks, growing smiles and gentle embrace was answer enough. 

 

… 

 

The next morning, Sansa shakes Tyrion’s shoulder to wake him. He checks her temperature, and it was as if her fever had broken overnight. 

 

“In my dream,” she tells him, “I was swimming in an ocean. And then I came up to the surface for air.”

 

…

 

Their arrival at Pentos had been very quiet, as per the couple’s request. They just wanted to be tourists, taking in the sites and spending quality time together. They couldn’t be distracted by grand festivities and long meetings with the leaders of Pentos.

 

Despite their anonymity, Brienne and Podrick still approached everything with caution. Brienne escorted them everywhere with sword in hand and glared at whoever passed by. Podrick tasted everything from each market they entered and Tyrion would find it admirable if Podrick didn’t exclaim how delicious it all was with the food still in his mouth.

 

They had rooms in a small inn with a good view of the beaches. Tyrion was already used to the scenery, but Sansa took in everything with complete awe. He figured if he was sick of the rest of the view, he could just gaze at Sansa all day.

 

Ever since he told Sansa what was weighing down his mind, he felt incredibly closer to her. She had accepted him, completely. For a fleeting moment he thought, as he watched his wife take in a beautifully sculpted pillar, that he was at peace.

 

…

 

“I told you: I can’t sing.”

 

“Please.”

 

“You’ll regret it.”

 

“ _ Please. _ ”

 

Sansa sighs and runs her hand through Tyrion’s hair. 

 

She sings him a song about a farm boy, whose father had died, and so, in his grief, he imagines him flying to a land of birds, where everything is beautiful and haunted. 

 

This is his favorite song, Tyrion decides as he falls asleep with his head in Sansa’s lap.

 

…

 

There wasn’t a surface in that room that they didn’t cover. 

 

She was bent over the table and he merely had to tilt his head up to please her.

 

He was flat on his back on the floor and she straddled him.

 

Up on the wall, him on his toes, her on her knees.

 

If they could, they probably would have fucked on the ceiling.

 

Once, over breakfast, Podrick had asked “can you please not do it against the wall we share?” and got a slap to the back of his head from Brienne.

 

…

 

When they finally made it near to shore, Sansa couldn’t contain her excitement. She soaked her feet in the water and kicked it about with giggles and exclamations of glee. She was never so close to the ocean before in her life.

 

“Come dance with me!” Sansa called, but Tyrion shook his head. He had sat by the stone steps with Podrick watching the clouds behind him. Brienne was off to patrol the beach. 

 

“I’m perfectly fine just watching you, my love.”

 

“Piss off!”she laughed as she spinned. 

 

“In my dream last night,” she had said over the sound of the waves crashing onto the sand, “I had turned into a mermaid. You caught me and we made love on a cliff!”

 

“What?” Podrick exclaimed in confusion. 

 

Everytime Tyrion thought he couldn’t be any happier, another day with Sansa would pass by.

 

…

  
  


Her moonblood hadn’t arrive in two moonturns. 

They were resting under the shade of a tree. Sansa’s head was in Tyrion’s lap. Podrick was trying to jump and catch the fruit with his bare hands. Brienne was training on a nearby tree. 

 

“Do you think you can stand another dozen moonturns in this place?” he had asked.

 

“With you? Forever.”

 

Sansa dreamt that she had returned to the water, and that Tyrion had joined her.


End file.
